Mama Said There'll Be Days Like This

Mama said there'll be days like this.

I remember during my treatment that my mother told me that one in eight women would face breast cancer in her lifetime. She said, "Look at all your incredible and beautiful girlfriends and start counting off to eight. You will become the rock for your friends. This is your calling."

At the time, this notion seemed as though it was so very far off. I was reminded of those words this past week. This time of year is always unsettling since four years ago I received my diagnosis of stage 3 breast cancer January 19, 2008. My life was forever changed.

I was spending Martin Luther King, Jr. day home from work and tending to Matt due to a recent cold that I very kindly shared with him. The phone rang. The words were quiet and jumbled on the other end. I was able to make out two words "Ridgetop" (a location) and "cancer." My entire body tingled and I lunged off the couch. I threw my hair in a ponytail, grabbed a hoodie and put on my boots. I turned to Matt, "Jenn called and needs me. I don't know what's happening, but I'm going. Watch Jasper. I love you."

My heart was racing and I felt the heat surging through my body ... I was sweating even though the air was painfully cold against my skin. I drove as fast as I possibly could through Loudoun to Ridgetop Circle. Luckily, I knew the location well since this was the building complex my company used to be in. I found Washington Radiology by looking at the listings of the companies in each building on my iPhone. I ran from my car into the waiting room.

Receptionist: "Can I help you?"
me: "I'm looking for Jennifer Campbell. I believe she is here."
Receptionist: "What is your relation?"
me. "I'm her friend. She called me."
Receptionist: "We don't let just anyone back there."
me: "Good thing I'm not just anyone. FIND HER."

It got ugly, but I didn't really care. This receptionist knew I was not messing around. I needed to get to Jenn ... and fast. An older woman with gray hair and glasses came out to meet me. She reminded me of the fairy godmother from Cinderella. She took me back to a small waiting room. My breath escaped me when I turned the corner and saw Jenn. She was sitting in a chair wearing a sterile white robe shaking while a young technician was casually walking her through the risks of am emergency biopsy.

"Considering the location of the tumor against the chest wall, we risk possibly puncturing the lung ..." blah blah blah

I looked at Jenn's face. Her eyes were red, swollen and glazed over. She was void of emotion -- she just continued nodding. Her body had gone into survival mode. She was reacting to the trauma of the news by retreating subconsciously. She blacked out. Instead of reacting by having a panic attack, which is my standard M.O., I went into what I refer to as "mom mode." I paid attention to everything the nurse said and Jenn's doctor -- I took notes and asked a million questions knowing that this was not something Jenn could do right now.

I sat in the room with Jenn while her doctor took four biopsies of tissue from the tumor and extracted fluid from her lymph node. She laid on the table motionless. I told her when to take a deep breathe and when to look away -- rubbing her arm and reassuring her that she was doing a good job. I know the procedure was painful, but she was not present. Thank God for that. My scar across my chest started aching during the exam. STOP IT, JENNIFER. I knew my mind was playing tricks. My whole body hurt for her. I could do nothing but be there for her and make sure I asked all the questions I wish someone would have asked when I was diagnosed four years ago. Feels like it was a lifetime ago.

Jenn: "What are the chances this is just a bad infection?"
Dr. Floerke: "The chances this is just an infection are very very slim. I am very concerned. I'm pretty sure this is cancer considering how hard the lump is, the lymph nodes being irregular and the positioning."

Before leaving I sat in a room with the older woman with gray hair and glasses while Jenn called and made a breast MRI appointment. I watched as tears ran down the woman's cheeks -- I realized that she probably experiences this every day. Before I walked Jenn out into the lobby I hugged the fairy godmother and thanked her for taking such good care of one of my bestfriends. She said, "She's just so young. Breaks my heart. Please take care of her."

We walked into the lobby and stopped. I enveloped Jenn in my arms while she kept repeating, "Please don't let me die." I took her face in my hands and said, "You are not going to die. Do you hear me in there? I won't let you. You are going to beat this and I will be by your side every step of the way. I promise you that. We can do this together."

I got in my car and sobbed the entire ride home.

Her pathology report came back three days later (on the four year anniversary of my diagnosis) confirming our worst fears ... this was breast cancer. It was in the milk duct, lymph nodes and tissue and the 5cm tumor is sitting against the chest wall. It is aggressive and she will need to start chemotherapy immediately to stop the cancer from spreading, especially into the lung.

Jenn became a survivor the moment she was diagnosed. And my mom was right, I have been called.

You can follow Jenn's journey by reading her blog, Not Jenn's Cup of Tea.

We All Have Something

Standing there in my swimsuit I anxiously awaited the technician to come into the room. I had never had an airbrush tan done, but I wanted to have a little color done safely before Matt’s cousin’s wedding in Connecticut. So, doing something new like this and exposing my scars to someone I didn’t know was unbearable. I dreaded the thought of someone asking me what the scars were from and how did it all happened. *deep breath*

There was a knock at the door and a soft voice asked, “all ready?” My pulse quickened.

The woman that entered the room was stunning. She was a tall African American woman in her thirties with long straight hair and a gorgeously toned body. I instantly felt self-conscious. She moved through the room with confidence and poise--she was truly magnificent.

“You can go topless if you want,” she started in, “a lot of my customers do. Or if you want to wear the disposable thong that works, too. Whatever you are most comfortable with.”

Here came the cancer word vomit ... I felt it building up inside me surrounded with a heap of panic.

“I don’t want to alarm you, but I need to tell you something before we start. I have a lot of scars because I am a breast cancer survivor.”

The technician was incredibly attentive and sympathetic to my story. But to my surprise, she had her own.

“I have a two year old son. I had a hard pregnancy and gained over 80 pounds. They did a c-section. My stomach was such a mess with excess skin and scarring that my father said he would get me plastic surgery ... like a tummy tuck to get rid of the bad part. The plastic surgeon was bad and botched what was supposed to be my flat stomach. Now I have to live with this forever.”

She pulled up her shirt to expose the scarring and gaping sections of her stomach that still remain.

She continued, “You are so beautiful. Look at you. You’re a fighter and now have this healthy, curvy body. God is great and look what the doctors were able to do for you.”

The anxiety I felt coming into the tanning salon subsided and before I knew it we were laughing about her adding some color to my booty.

The experience wasn’t about comparing myself to someone else or her scars being worse than mine, but about understanding that we all have something. Maybe some more severe than others, but we have all been through challenges and perhaps don’t like certain things about our bodies. It is a personal journey of acceptance of one’s own self and loving who you are despite sickness or injury.

Pink Rocks the Runway

Being asked to participate in Pink Rocks the Runway has been one of the most fulfilling and fun events of my remission. Pink Jams! is an amazing organization that is local to Washington, D.C. and was started by the amazing Christa Floresca in honor and remembrance of her friend Jen.

I, along with 13 other survivors under the age of 40, had dresses designed by local designers. I was paired with the brilliant Ginger Carlin of Booshie Designs. There could not have been a more perfect pairing. Ginger and I were truly two peas in a pod. Her vision and creativity are awe inspiring and I would love to get to work with her again.

The evening of the event was emotional, but celebratory. Walking the catwalk and hearing the crowd roar and my friends and family cheer me on made the night so special. I felt like this was my moment. I did it. It took every ounce of me not to cry at each intimate moment I had with friends, family and even strangers.

Walking along side me were two of my girlfriends and sisters in survival, Jami (pictured center) and Liz (pictured right). Afterward, I found Matt and my family in the audience. People I didn’t know were coming up and hugging me and asking to have their photos taken with me. One woman even asked for my autograph. I was incredibly humbled by the love and togetherness felt from the event.

Christian Siriano, in all his fierceness, headlined the show and did not disappoint. I want all of his clothes. Behind-the-scenes Christian is very hands-on from the hair and makeup of his models to the actual clothing and lineup. He is quite a visionary.

That night $30,000 was raised and donated to Capital Breast Care Center in D.C. helping women get mammograms who otherwise would not be able to afford the imaging. I have always said that if my story can impact or help one other person then it is a story worthy of being shared. That feeling and drive is even stronger now. I hope to be invited back for other Pink Jams! events and perhaps down the road become a volunteer and continue to grow Christa’s vision and outreach.

Forgiveness

“Have you forgiven your body?”

This question has lingered in my mind for weeks now since I had dinner with one of my girlfriends. She told me a very personal story about losing her baby during pregnancy. After some time, she and her husband tried to have another child and she was not getting pregnant. It wasn’t until she went to an acupuncturist that she was asked the question: "have you forgiven your body?" She burst into tears as she realized the importance of the question. She was finally able to let the anger and guilt subside. And wouldn’t you know … she has a beautiful family now. Amazing grace.

We talk about forgiveness when it comes to our relationships, but what about our bodies? We are so terribly critical of ourselves, myself included. We get angry and embarrassed about baby weight and stretch marks ... but did we stop to thank our body for the ability to give life? Joint injuries stole our athleticism away at a young age and plague us with chronic pain ... but did we stop to thank our body for still having the ability to walk and ride a bike? Which left me thinking, had I forgiven my body for having cancer?

I spent several weeks thinking about the question and allowing myself to go back into that dark place of sickness and feel all those difficult feelings again. I looked back through my photos and reread my blogs and felt the anger, confusion and hurt boil back to the surface again. I HADN’T forgiven my body. Why should I??? I was only 26 years old when I was diagnosed.

Once the knee-jerk feelings settled, the anxiety subsided and the tears dried, I was able to think more clearly about how amazing my body truly is. My body beat stage-3 breast cancer. It bounced back from ten surgeries. Survived 18 weeks of chemotherapy without my blood count ever plummeting. It healed after six weeks of intense radiation therapy leaving me with third degree burns. It gave me the strength and mental capacity to work through the psychological pain of losing my breasts, being covered in 18 scars and dealing with body self-consciousness for the first time in my life. It gave me the courage to love unconditionally despite the fact that I no longer viewed myself as a long-term investment for another person. My body gave me a new appreciation for life and taught me patience and true compassion. My body is amazing and I am truly grateful and appreciative for the experience of learning to love myself.

10 Lessons Cancer Taught Me

I found this article called ’10 Lessons Cancer Taught Me’ by Donna Davis on a senior care website of all places. As I read each lesson I found myself responding aloud, “yes,” “absolutely,” “couldn’t have said it better.” It is rare for me to lift this much of someone else’s text, but I honestly could not say what she did any better. I think Donna is brilliant and a gift. I hope her words inspire you as much as they have me.

1. There is no someday. There’s only now. There’s a story called “Precious Present” which talks about a mysterious man telling of an elusive present. The point of the story is that being “present” by enjoying the moments in your life is the best gift of all. It’s good to plan for the future, but remember to LIVE TODAY. Don’t put off playing with the kids, using your best china, doing all those things you want to do “someday.” We truly do not know what tomorrow brings. Be aware of what’s happening, really listen to others and trust your instincts. Your life can be so much richer by learning to be present even for just a few minutes each day.

2. Own and express your true feelings. For most of my life, I would do things I didn’t want to do. I always worried about saying no to others. When I got the leukemia I knew that the fatigue wasn’t just from the disease. It was also from 20 years of pent-up resentment for doing things and going places because I felt I “had” to. I’ve learned to express my feelings. Now I say no to things that I don’t want to do. But I also tell people I love them more often. I tell my kids “I’m sorry” when I’ve made mistakes (and I make plenty!) I talk to others about my fears, my depression (which plagued me for years) and my failures as well as my successes. Being honest has lifted a huge weight off my shoulders. Interestingly, in the process of becoming more direct, I’ve become kinder. There’s no resentment when you speak from the heart.

3. I’m not a victim. I choose how I react to situations. Sometimes people ask “Why me?” Except for a brief moment, I didn’t travel down that road. I knew there were lessons I needed to learn. Yes, some days just plain sucked with nausea and fatigue, but I also knew that many others have symptoms 1000 times worse than mine. When you’re open to the lessons, you can move through your situation so much easier and faster.

4. Take care of myself first. When traveling on airplanes we always hear that in case of emergencies to put on our oxygen mask first, THEN take care of others. That’s a major life lesson. If we don’t take care of ourselves first, then we have nothing to give others. I had excellent doctors, but I’ve learned that I need to know my body and what it needs. All aspects of our life are our responsibility. Get to know you. If you feel better after eating protein, eat it. If you need 8 hours of sleep a night, find a way to get it. You’ll function much better because that’s what YOU need…not what a book recommends. It’s the same with emotions (see #2). Speak from your heart. And spiritually, find the path that’s right for you. It all comes together to make a wonderful YOU, and then you can be there for others.

5. Ask for help. Sell the SuperWoman cape on ebay! Asking for help gives others a chance to share their gifts and love. Plus, you’ll weigh less because the “I have to do everything” cape is really heavy.

6. Watch your words and especially your thoughts. I believe that our “thoughts create.” With my cancer, I KNEW I was going to be cancer-free. But earlier in my life I was very critical, judgmental and negative. Watch your words and thoughts for an hour. Did you say or think thoughts like “I’m always tired,” “We can’t afford that,” “I could never do that”? If you keep thinking or saying those things, guess what shows up in your life? Yep…You are tired, you can’t afford that item and you’ll never do that. I challenge you to eliminate the negatives. Guard your words. They are powerful.

7. There is a reason for all things. Many times things happen in our lives and we don’t understand. We are a small cog in a much bigger picture. Just trust and stay positive. As you get older, you’ll smile at how you’ve weaved this beautiful tapestry called “My Life.”

8. Get rid of stress. Stress is toxic and it can lead to serious health problems – physically and emotionally. If you are in a stressful situation, GET OUT of it -- whether it’s an abusive relationship, a terrible job, or living in a place or city you don’t like. Stress eventually wins by wearing you out. So read #9.

9. If you don’t like your life, change it! This and #8 are easier said than done, but if you want a happier and healthier life, start making some changes. If you are thinking defeating thoughts, work on creating more positive affirmations. If you’ve always wanted to learn how to play the piano, start taking lessons. If you’ve always wanted your own home business, find something that sounds fun and start it! As the saying goes, “Life is like a buffet table. You can have whatever you want, but you’ve got to get up and go get it.” And go back and read #5 and ask for help from people you trust.

10. Laugh often. Don’t take life so seriously. All of us have challenges. Don’t get upset and angry. Laugh more and know that “This too shall pass.”

Source: Davis, Donna. ""10 Lessons Cancer Taught Me"" Senior Care Services and Information. Senior Care Psychological Consulting, 2004. Web. 25 Aug. 2011. http://seniorcareservices.org/cancer_10_lessons_learned.htm.

An Unexpected San Francisco Treat

San Francisco Treat

I met the most amazing man. (I know that sounds so silly.) I know why I was meant to come to this PMI Conference in San Francisco. I have confirmed that I am meant to be doing the role I am doing. Everything my Dad ever said about managing people was true. And now I want to grow and eventually get my PMP certification post-masters. In addition, I have met someone who I instantly connected with, which I never expected.

His name is Jose (pronounced Joe-say) from Montreal. He is French-Canadian. He is here with his VERY pregnant wife and their two children. He is the GM of a startup in Montreal called Haka Solutions. My first day at the conference he told me, "Jennifer, you need to learn to disconnect sometimes and relax. There wouldn't be the need for project managers if projects were perfect." Ah, I'm not alone ... I felt validated.

Today my buddy and I sat together for our new session and then walked to lunch together. I was asking about his wife and babies (since they are out and about in SF during the day while he is in class) and in return, he asked if I want children. I paused and then, after some hesitation, decided to share my cancer journey. To my surprise his reaction was a smirk and then encouragement to continue sharing. He reassurend me that he would share his story when I finished.

Unbeknownst to me, he was diagnosed with stage-3 Hodgkin's at the age of 20 and was told he would never have children. He turns 40 this year and is expecting his third child next month ... a little girl. Just when he and his wife had started to consider alternative options to have a family, she got pregnant. I cannot believe I met him at a work conference. He is a new friend that I will have for a long time to come. I think I will send him an announcement when I have my first child ...

Buh-bye Dark Cloud

Annual doctor’s appointment & blood work: Normal
Annual eye exam: Normal and now eligible for LASIK
Annual retinal scan: Normal—no signs of side effects from the Tamoxifen
6-month oncology check-up: Normal
6-month dentist appointment: Normal
3-month Pap: Normal

It’s been a LONG time since I have had normal test results. I don’t know what to do with myself. I guess I’ll finish my Masters, focus on getting stronger and healthier and plan my wedding.

It is nice not having a dark cloud following me around anymore.

This time, when I went to visit my oncologist, Dr. David Heyer, I took Matt with me. It was important to me that he meets Dr. Heyer; after all he is the man who saved my life. If Matt is going to marry me, I want him to understand that this will always be my reality. We can’t ignore it, or hide from it … we need to face it head on … together.

Dr. Heyer: “If this is completely out of line, please tell me.”
me: I smiled knowing exactly where Dr. Heyer was headed.
Dr. Heyer: “Do you two intend to have children?”
me: Without hesitation I replied, “Yes.”
Dr. Heyer: “Four years ago when all of this began I never thought it would be a possibility for you to get pregnant. I was certain that with the amount of chemo we were giving you that I would push you into menopause permanently.”
me: I interrupted, “Right, but I only missed three months and started right back again consistently every 28 days.”
Dr. Heyer: “I know, and it’s pretty remarkable, even unheard of. Now, in the past people worried that when a woman got pregnant that change in hormones could cause cancer to return. I am telling you that this assumption is NOT true. Getting pregnant will not give you cancer.”
me: “OK.”
Dr. Heyer: “Also, a woman with breast cancer WITHOUT lymph node involvement runs a risk of getting cancer later in life, so there would be a long gap between the first and second diagnosis. However, a woman with breast cancer WITH lymph node involvement, like yours, runs a risk of getting cancer within the first couple of years of remission. So, once we get you past a certain point, we shouldn’t need to worry as much. But you and I have decided it’s never coming back, right? We’re done with this.”
me: “Right.”
Dr. Heyer: “Jennifer, I see absolutely no reason why you can’t get pregnant. You have surprised me and beaten the odds on everything else. However, I want you to finish the Tamoxifen … it’s essential that you have a full 5 years.”
me: “I understand. So, how soon after I’m off the Tamoxifen can I start trying?”
Dr. Heyer: “That’s not really my area of expertise, so I’d defer to your Women’s Physician, but I’d say 3 months.”